


The Sharpest Lives

by aqua_arcs



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: This will be updated slowly, Whaler!Corvo AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:30:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqua_arcs/pseuds/aqua_arcs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is full of choices- big and small. These choices can lead a person to destruction, creation and everything in between. Everything can change from a simple decision. One can be destined to become a noble protector or a infamous assassin depending on what they choose to do. The only thing that doesn’t change is The Outsider’s need to meddle in the decisions of mortals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sharpest Lives

_Corvo had known it was a bad idea to try and steal from the leader of one of most blood thirsty gangs in Karnaca. He had known it and yet he had done it anyway. He would have been successful in his little heist too- if he hadn’t accidentally dropped a bottle on one of the thugs heads when he was trying to sneak back out past them from above._

_Now he was being chased through increasingly unfamiliar sewage pathways trying to lose the furious men that not only followed him down into the sewers, but had managed to keep track of him as he took off down whatever twists and turns he could find. He flinched as something flew past him and into the waterway next to him._

_Deciding he had to end the chase quickly Corvo darted down a narrow side path that he had nearly missed seeing. He was happy to find that there were large pipes he’d be able to climb on top of on either side of the wall and they were definitely higher than the eye levels of any of the adults chasing him. Something he had learned early on in life was that people almost never look up and he used that information whenever he could, climbing on top of the pipes just in time for the first thug to turn the corner. He held his breath, subconsciously shifting slightly so that he blended in more with the shadows around him, until the men after him ran past shouting curses and threats._

_Only once he was sure that they were far enough away not to hear him did he allow himself to breathe. His breath coming out in short, quiet pants even as he maneuvered himself down from his hiding spot so that he could backtrack. He had to figure out where he was, or find a place to bunker down for the night. Whichever happened first, he didn’t care at this point._

_He walked cautiously, listening and looking for any signs of the gang that he had lost might be coming back his way. Nothing met his ears other than the sounds of the water rushing through their paths, the occasional rats and his own footsteps. It was calming after his frantic run for his life and Corvo could feel himself relaxing a little bit with every passing second without the sound of others near him._

_Angry voices from somewhere ahead of him changed that though. All the tension that had faded away as he walked returning in a single moment as he frantically looked around for a place to hide. A door further up the pathway caught his attention and he moved toward it, quietly hoping that it was unlocked._

_Relief flooded through him as the handle twisted all the way and the door opened without resistance. He entered the room without hesitation, shutting the door firmly behind him before placing an ear to the door to listen to the voices as they moved closer. He held still as the owners of the voices moved past the door and continued down the sewers in the direction he had just come from._

_When he could no longer hear the voices Corvo turned to take a moment to observe the room he had found himself in. It was a decent size for a room hidden in the depths of the Serkonian sewers- if he had to guess it was an old maintenance room, judging by the old machines lining the wall on his left.The air in the room was stagnant, smelling of mold and decay. Concrete walls were almost completely covered with crazed words and repeated phrases written in what seemed to be dried blood. A soft humming filled the air, the sound reminding him of a distant whale song._

_What caught his attention, though, was the shrine standing in the far corner of the room. A strange altar made of aging wood and rusting metal that stood as tall as the room would allow. Long purple clothes with intricate gold designs were wrapped carefully around the tall wooden beams that seemed to be holding the thing together; the indigo lights placed by and on it casting grotesque shadows across the room. The single shelf built into it was clustered with bits of barbed wire, broken pieces of wood and some foreign object that seemed to be made of bone placed upon a worn piece of fabric._

_The sight of it set him on edge for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, but he found himself moving closer to the shrine regardless. As he moved he realized that the humming he had been hearing since entering the room was coming from the strange object on the self. The air around it distorted itself in nonsensical patterns with every note it gave out, making it look like the shadows around it were dancing with some sort of unnatural power._

_Reaching out he hesitated slightly before letting himself brush his fingers over the smooth surface of the object. As his fingers made contact with the bone the humming became louder, sending chills cascading down his spine. Shuddering at the sensation he closed his eyes against it, hoping to tune out the sound. Instead he could almost hear the humming change into a melancholy siren song that threatened to overtake his mind as it rang through the air. It was song that whispered the promise of powers far beyond anything he could imagine- if he would just pick up the rune and accept it._

_It was tempting- extremely so- but the memory of the walls around him reminded him that there would be a price to be paid for it._

_He didn’t know how long he stood in front of the shrine, his fingers absently running over the archaic symbols imprinted on the strange bone, as he mentally fought against the urge to give into the power that threatened to drag him into madness before he forced himself to stop touching the thing. Opening his eyes he pulled his hand away with a gasp, before quickly taking a couple of steps back as the shadows around the rune flickered furiously as if it was angry at him for denying it._

_Corvo watched it warily until the shadows calmed and went back to their original movements before turning around, fully intent on leaving the room and never coming back. He didn’t care if anyone was still in the area looking for him. He could handle himself in a fight, he knew that. All he would need is a weapon. What he didn’t know- or really want to- was how to deal with things that were obviously magical and had a good chance of driving him insane._

_He didn’t even make it three steps before the world started to tilt and fall apart._

_“You truly do find yourself in the most interesting of places, don’t you Corvo?” An almost unnaturally calm voice spoke up from behind him. Twirling around, Corvo found himself face to face with a strange man sitting on the shrine as if it were some sort of twisted throne. As he set his eyes on the stranger all of his instincts screamed at him to run and get away from the man- no, creature, there was no way the black-eyed thing in front of him was human- but he couldn’t. Something in the back of his mind whispered reassurances that the one in front of him wasn’t there to do him harm._

_Despite the impassive expression on the other’s face he could see see- almost feel- the growing interest coming from the other’s knowing gaze. He didn’t like it._

_“There aren’t many who can naturally resist the song of the runes. Most lose their minds and themselves to the forces they could never to dream to control. At least-” A twitch of the Leviathan’s lips caught Corvo’s attention before pain erupted in his left hand, “-not without my mark.”_

_Corvo looked down at his hand, expecting something physical to be there that had been causing the pain. He was surprised to see a mark identical to the one on the center of the rune branding itself onto his skin. It flared a mix of brilliant gold and whale oil blue even as the pain subsided and the mark completed itself. Grey eyes flickered back to meet black in bewildered concern._

_“I am The Outsider and that is my Mark. With it you will be able to control the forces of and beyond the world- forces men call magic. What you do with them falls on you as it has the others before you, but know that I will be watching with great interest.”_

_As the The Outsider spoke Corvo could feel the world coming back together and he knew that their conversation was coming to a close despite the questions he wanted to ask. It seemed that he wasn’t going to get the chance to, either, because as he opened his mouth to ask the god **why** he was cut off by said god._

_“One more gift before I leave you. A name: The Knife of Dunwall.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on Tumblr at http://aquaarcswriting.tumblr.com/post/81735803528/author-aqua-arcs-fandom-dishonored-summary  
> Feel free to ask me stuff about the story or talk to me on there.


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